Clay's Hope (12 page)

I stood before the woman reached us and went
to the scale. There, I stood still hoping she wouldn’t try to feed
me one of those dried cakes. It didn’t smell bad. But I wasn’t a
dog and wasn’t about to eat something humans fed to a dog.

“Wow. This is Clay, right? He’s very well
trained,” the woman said, watching me.

She read the scale and made a note on a
piece of paper.

“Yeah, we haven’t had him for long. We don’t
know much about him, actually. Shots, age...it’s all a
mystery.”

Shots? What the hell was she talking
about?

“Well, we’ll take a look and see what we can
tell you. Let’s go in here.”

She opened the door to Exam Room 2. I
ignored her treat and walked in.

“Hmm...” she said, watching me. “What does
he eat at home?”

“Well, we bought him dog food, but he
doesn’t seem to like it. I’ve given him some cooked steak and other
meat,” Rachel said, her voice laced with guilt.

“Perhaps we can recommend a different dog
food. Though dog foods do contain meat, they also contain other
essential vitamins and minerals dogs need that they won’t get from
just eating steak.”

This new woman needed to stop talking. I
moved closer to Rachel, defending my sole food source.

The door, opposite the one we’d entered,
opened. Another woman walked in.

“Good morning,” she said, looking down at
me. “My, you’re a big one.” She looked up at Rachel. “Shelly
mentioned there are no records. Can you get him to jump up on the
table?”

“Yeah, no records,” Rachel said, standing.
“I’m not sure he’ll listen.” Rachel looked at me and patted the low
metal table.

“Come on, Clay. Up here.”

The sooner I did what they wanted, the
sooner we went back to Gabby, I reminded myself. I hopped up on the
table and fought not to roll my eyes at the new woman’s praise. She
held out her hand. Did she really expect me to sniff her? I looked
at Rachel. She smiled at me and nodded.

“It’s okay, Clay. She’s just going to look
you over to make sure you’re healthy.”

I’m healthy.

Still, I turned back to the woman and
pretended to sniff her. She praised me and offered me a biscuit. I
turned away, but she kept trying until I took it in my mouth. Then
I set it on the table between my feet.

“Has he been eating well?”

I’m eating fine, I thought as I listened to
Rachel repeat her explanation. As she spoke, the woman ran a hand
along my side, down my legs, then cupped my unmentionables. The
move shocked me so much I froze in panic as she groped me.

“He’s not neutered. Let’s see if he’ll let
me look at his teeth.”

Yes. Anything. Just please let go.

I endured a thorough exam of my mouth and
ears. They talked shots, and I put up with a few pokes. Human
medicine I might have to worry about, but I doubted animal medicine
would cause any issues.

When the woman put on a rubber glove and
asked Rachel to hold my head, I grew suspicious. The words “anal
glands” sent a shock of panic through me. I jumped off the table
and backed toward the door. What did they do to dogs here? That
yappy Chihuahua made more sense. It had probably been screaming for
help.

“Um, I think he’s done cooperating for
today,” Rachel said slowly as she watched me.

The woman tried coaxing me with a variety of
treats, even the lunchmeat from her sandwich, for the next several
minutes before agreeing that I’d had enough. There was no bribe on
the planet that would get me back up on that table.

“If you notice him scooting on the carpet,
you should bring him back.”

Not in her lifetime.

* * * *

Gabby waited on the porch when Rachel pulled
past the corner of the house. I stayed as I was, lying on the
backseat. After the indignities I’d suffered, I wasn’t speaking to
Rachel—not that I spoke to her before—and I wasn’t yet sure how I
felt about Gabby. Had she sent me to that place knowing what they
wanted to do to me? She’d told Rachel not to let them unman me;
she’d tried to protect me. Yet, she’d said nothing about the last
procedure.

Rachel opened her door.

“How’d it go?” Gabby asked. I could hear her
anxiety.

“He took it like a champ.”

I shuddered at what more I might have taken
if that woman would have had her way.

Rachel opened the back car door. Nauseous, I
lifted my head and stood on shaky legs. When the pack spread
information about the human world, no one had specifically
mentioned vets as animal doctors. I considered contacting one of
the Elders with a warning but didn’t want to admit how I’d come by
the knowledge.

Deep in thought, I slowly climbed the deck
steps and moved to Gabby’s side.

“What’d they do to him?” she asked.

Her worry broke my reverie.

“He wasn’t acting like this when we left. I
swear. I think he’s hamming it up for you.” Rachel patted my head
with a laugh, and I realized, unless I wanted Gabby probing—I
cringed at the use of the word—into what had happened, I needed to
act normally.

I straightened and walked with purpose to
the door. Gabby sighed, her relief obvious. I glanced at her and
winked. She quickly looked at Rachel, but that woman was already in
the house.

Gabby followed her in.

“So what shots did he get?” Gabby asked as
she poured some orange juice. She took a small sip a little too
casually, then glanced at me. I wished I knew what was going
through her head. Moments like this made me yearn for her to stake
her Claim. The connection it would give us...well, there’d be no
doubt what she was thinking or feeling then.

“Just rabies. The vet had a hard time
determining his age by his teeth, but thought him to be in his
prime,” Rachel said.

Gabby choked on her juice.

“That’s great,” she said in a raspy voice as
she glanced at me.

I couldn’t help the small smile that curled
my lips because I knew she was thinking of me as a man in that
moment, not the dog that I’d been treated like for the past
hour.

“Hey, while I was waiting for him, Peter
called.”

Rachel had been waiting for me to come out
of the corner—where I’d stayed until the woman with the plastic
glove left—when her phone had chirped. I’d been too preoccupied to
pay attention to her conversation.

“He said he had a good time last night and
hoped Scott hadn’t ruined his chance by coming on too strong. He’s
never seen Scott act in any way but smooth. He naturally thinks
Scott’s falling hard for you.”

I stared at Rachel and considered biting
her. She’d put me through enough today.

“I’m just repeating.” She held up her hands
with a laugh at Gabby. “Anyway, Peter said Scott’s already been
bugging him about getting your number to set up another date. Given
what you told me, I said no, that last night was just a friendly
get together and that you were seeing someone else.”

Gabby and I both let out relieved sighs.
Rachel noticed mine, though.

“You know, sometimes that dog creeps me out
with how human he acts,” Rachel said, shaking her head. “Anyway,
I’m going to meet up with Peter for another try at a date. We’re
going to see a movie; and this time, I’m not asking you to come
with.” She had a huge smile on her face as she walked past us
toward her room.

“Thank you!” Gabby called to her.

For the rest of the weekend, Gabby studied,
and I stayed glued to her side. She didn’t talk about her call with
Sam, and I kept quiet about the vet visit.

Monday, as soon as the house was empty, I
left to roam the neighborhood. It was time to start acting like a
human and gather some clothes for myself. A pair of socks pulled
from a back porch, some worn and ratty boots pulled from a garage,
a t-shirt pulled from a line. I picked things I knew weren’t likely
to be missed. The pants were harder, but I finally found a pair
dangling from the branches of a barren tree. The tree belonged to
one of the houses closer to campus, one that tended to blare music
late into the night. I looked around and, hoping no one was
watching, shifted my hands and limbs just enough to climb the tree.
Pants in my mouth, I jogged home.

By Tuesday evening, I had a set of clothes.
With clothes, I could shift into my skin and get a job. I had some
mechanical knowledge, thanks to the books Gabby brought me. Now, I
needed to figure out who would hire me. Since Gabby found a car by
reading the paper, I decided I would spend the next day looking at
the paper to see if it had any information about jobs.

Wednesday morning, during the rush before
she left for class, I watched Gabby race downstairs to throw in a
load of laundry. I’d watched her do this countless times and
already knew what dial to turn, what button to push, and what
detergent to use.

As I sat on the steps watching her, I
realized I couldn’t wear what I had. At least, not as they were.
All of it smelled like someone else, and I knew how meticulous
Gabby was about my scent. I’d need to wash everything.

Gabby raced back up the stairs and almost
ran me over on her way out the door. As soon as her car left the
driveway, I went out to the neighbor’s bush and brought my cache of
clothes into the house. Then, I waited for the washer to
finish.

In the privacy of the basement, I shifted
into my skin and removed Gabby’s clothes from the washer. Then, I
hesitated. I wanted to put them in the dryer for her. Would she
thank me or would she want to know what I was doing down here in
the first place? Uncertain, I set her wet things in the basket then
loaded the washer with my items.

Once the machine started to fill with water,
I shifted and went back upstairs. I’d started making myself a
single sandwich every day from Gabby’s supplies while she was away
at school. She hadn’t mentioned anything, so I figured it was okay
to keep doing it. While I had my paws on the counter to get the
bread, I heard an odd noise.

I tilted my head and listened. Something
clunked. I pushed away from the counter and took off down the
stairs. The machine was shaking and thunking.

In a panic, I shifted and opened the lid.
The machine quieted, and I looked down into the grey water. I
couldn’t see a thing. What had made that noise? The boots, maybe? I
closed the lid gently and waited for it to start again. It squealed
when it tried.

I stopped the machine again, canceled the
program, and listened to the water drain. Then, I attempted to
start it again. It made worse noises the second time; and I knew,
without a doubt, I’d managed to break it.

“But how?” I tugged at my beard in
frustration.

If Gabby came back and found out that I
broke—

I looked down at her wet clothes then back
at the grey water. I couldn’t afford for her to be mad at me when
we were just starting to make progress. Teetering with indecision,
I looked at her clothes once more. I’d make this little lie up to
her. Decided, I plunged my hand into the water and started pulling
out my items.

One of the bootlaces gave me trouble. Wound
around the base of the center pole that twisted back and forth, the
thing didn’t want to come loose. The boot had also wedged itself
between the center post and the drum. No doubt, my boot was the
“how” behind the machine’s behavior.

Once I had my things draining in the utility
sink, I put Gabby’s wet things back into the washer. With the boot
and string removed, I tried to start the machine once more. It
filled as it should, but as soon as the post started to twist back
and forth, it made awful noises.

A car pulled into the driveway, and I froze.
A door opened and a moment later, I listened to Rachel’s familiar
tread on the porch. She wasn’t supposed to be back yet.

I grabbed my wet things, shoved them behind
an empty cardboard box, and shifted back into my fur just as the
back door opened.

I barked just as an annoying dog would do
when there are strange noises in the house.

“Clay?” Rachel called.

No...it’s your other dog barking, I thought.
I still hadn’t forgiven her for the vet.

She came down the steps, and I pointedly
looked at the washer as if the noise it made wasn’t enough of a
clue.

“Oh, no!” She flew to the machine and
quickly opened the lid like I’d done. After studying things for a
few moments, she turned to me.

“We’re going to have to call someone, I
think. I don’t know anything about this stuff.” She pulled her cell
phone from her pocket as she walked back upstairs.

I followed her closely, thankful she hadn’t
noticed the wet trail that led to my hidden clothes.

* * * *

Several hours later, I sat at the top of the
steps, watching the man downstairs. I could just barely see him
from my position.

Rachel was waiting in the kitchen for Gabby,
which was the same reason I was at the top of the stairs instead of
downstairs learning. Rachel and I had been down there with the man
when he’d pulled the machine out to look at the back. While I’d
been learning, she’d been eyeing the man in a potential Mate way. I
wondered if that meant she was no longer with Peter. I doubted it
because she still smelled of him.

The sound of a car coming down the road
pricked my ears. Gabby’s engine and exhaust system were distinct
and easy to identify. As soon as Gabby pulled into the driveway,
Rachel dashed out the back door.

“You are brilliant!” Rachel said, still
outside.

“What’d I do?” Gabby’s words were faint.

“There’s a hot repairman working on the
washer in the basement.”

Hot? I looked at the man again as he bent
over to pick up a tool.

“Thank you for breaking it,” Rachel
said.

She and Gabby walked into the house.

“I didn’t do anything but throw in a load of
laundry before I left,” Gabby said quietly.